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Summary
The Gogmazios hunt goes terribly, terribly wrong, leaving Shale to experience something she’d never wanted to witness again.
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Olivia had been off since this morning when preparations for the hunt had been underway. Shale found her sitting quietly on the bench outside a borrowed tent, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance while she was lost in her own head. She’d sat beside her, pauldron brushing against pauldron, Olivia seemingly blinking back into the present.
Her voice had been practiced, mechanical, as she spoke, wearing the mask of a Captain to hide the fear that Shale could sense like petrichor before a rainstorm. She’d told Shale to not worry about her, to focus on her own unit instead. Shale had stubbornly refused to leave her side.
In her eyes Olivia was her unit. Astrum and Avis had spent more time together than apart these days, after all.